<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I Don't Breathe For Myself Anymore by habitsayss</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25405588">I Don't Breathe For Myself Anymore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitsayss/pseuds/habitsayss'>habitsayss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Invader Zim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Addiction, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Blood and Gore, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Immortality, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Obsession, Pining, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:15:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25405588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitsayss/pseuds/habitsayss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always been something wrong with Keef. He's just good at hiding it. </p><p>Usually. </p><p>But when the boy he's been in love with since the 4th grade discovers his secret and vows to help him out, will Keef be able to lose this curse? Does he even want to?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dib/Keef (Invader Zim)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's something wrong with me. </p><p>I know that much. </p><p>I've never been normal. I probably never will be. </p><p>I knew there was something wrong with me when I was five. </p><p>My little brother and I wandered off in the woods to play, and we met a wild wolf. I had convinced my brother to run, to get help, while I distracted the beast. It pinned me down and mauled me. </p><p>But it didn't hurt. </p><p>That was the first time I ever felt what I call "the euphoria". It was an incredible rush that left me lightheaded and giddy, and only intensified when I looked down to see the blood gushing from my body. A gunshot echoed throughout the woods at some point, snapping me out of it.</p><p>The next few minutes were a blur, the memory faded and lost to time. All I know is that my wounds were gone by dinnertime. </p><p>I was seven when it happened again. A few kids in my class were throwing things at a loose ceiling tile, and it ended up falling as I was directly under it. I remember suppressing a laugh when it hit me, and the euphoria sent me crumbling to the floor. </p><p>Then suddenly, I was nine. And I met a boy. He had raven black hair and pretty hazel eyes, and I remember thinking that he was the prettiest person I had ever seen. I felt what I thought was the euphoria again, whenever I looked at him. Now though, I realize it was a different feeling entirely. It was nothing like the violent rush of ecstasy I had come to crave, no, it was softer, nicer, the kind of joy that makes you melt into a warm puddle of mushy happiness. </p><p>By the time I was twelve, I had figured out two things. </p><p>One was that any physical wounds inflicted on me healed faster than any human being should, effectively making me immortal. </p><p>The other was how to trigger the euphoria myself, instead of waiting for a freak accident to befall me. </p><p>Now I'm eighteen, and nothing has changed. I'm still immortal, I'm still addicted to the euphoria, and I'm still in love with the boy with the raven hair.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I Believe In Ghosts, And Other Lies That Get My Crush To Like Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Keef tells some lies, and accidentally befriends the prettiest boy he's ever met.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wish I understood people. </p>
<p>The way they walk, the way they act. The reason they have friends, and the reason I don't. It's why I tend to people watch, just silently observing the world around me until I'm needed in a conversation. I wouldn't say that I have friends, and while I'm not popular, I'm not at the bottom of the food chain either. That spot was reserved for <em>him</em>. </p>
<p>I don't say it with malice, I don't think I could. High school is full of strange beasts that make up the student body, and Dib Membrane has to be the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen. I could listen to him talk about things I don't have the slightest idea about, and never get bored. He's incredible. I envy him, in some respects. He's not afraid to speak his mind, no matter what anyone thinks of him. I tend to stay in my place under the radar, where nobody can see me and get an idea that I might be different from other people, and so far I've done a pretty good job at it. But sometimes I envy people like Dib, who radiate the energy of someone who belongs in the spotlight, whether the audience is armed with tomatoes or roses. </p>
<p>But I'm getting ahead of myself. </p>
<hr/>
<p>At eight a.m. Keef woke up to the first beep of his alarm, as always. </p>
<p>At eight o'five Keef brushed his teeth and pulled on his jeans, as always. </p>
<p>By eight thirty Keef was out the door, and as always, reminding himself that senior year meant the endless mutiny of it all wouldn't last forever. He was on the home stretch, and couldn't afford to quit now. </p>
<p>Yet the colorless repetition was starting to sink its filthy claws into Keef's mind, and maybe that was why he decided to take a different route to school. </p>
<p>At eight forty five, Keef took a left at the stop sign instead of a right. </p>
<p>Walking himself to school, Keef found himself no longer moving his legs when he heard a cry. He tried to continue, but his body brought him in another direction, leading him to a sickening spectacle. </p>
<p>There he was, the gorgeous, raven-haired, love of his life, thrown onto the pavement, being kicked and punched by two larger students that Keef recognized in a way that made him sick to his stomach. Before Keef had realized what was happening, he was seeing red. How dare they touch Dib like that. Nobody should touch Dib like that. Nobody will ever touch Dib like that. </p>
<p>Keef didn't come to until he was rolling his sleeves back down and the two larger students were long gone. Dib was on his feet, eyes wide. Keef turned to look at him, and his heart nearly broke at how the raven-haired boy stepped backwards, his mouth agape. </p>
<p>Impulsed to reassure Dib he wasn't hostile, he held out a hand and parted his lips to speak. "Are you okay?" He asked as gently as possible. He was caught off guard when Dib suddenly darted forward and grabbed his face, inspecting his cheek thoroughly while Keef blushed like a madman. </p>
<p>"How did you do that?" The shorter boy barked, more curious than vicious, yet his tone still held a suspicious edge. </p>
<p>"Wh- Huh?" Keef stuttered, his lips mere inches away from those of his crush. </p>
<p>"Your bruises are gone. Bruises don't heal that fast." Dib stated, stepping back with a tight lipped frown. </p>
<p>Keef blinked, unsure of how to explain. How do you tell your crush you can't die? </p>
<p>"Who- What are you?" Dib pushed, stare piercing into Keef's eyes(and heart). </p>
<p>"I'm Keef." He began, finally finding his voice. "I uh, I usually try not to tell people things like this, you know. Maybe I'm not normal, but I'm still mostly human, a-and I don't want to get taken away and experimented on, y'know?" Maybe it was just the teenage hormones talking, but in truth getting taken away and experimented on didn't sound as bad as he said. </p>
<p>Dib appeared to consider this for a moment. "Fine. Come talk to me at lunch, Keef." Dib responded, starting to walk away. </p>
<p>As Keef melted behind him, he couldn't help but feel eternally grateful to have picked today to take the wrong way to school. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>